


Said the Spider to the Fly

by Nelja-in-English (Nelja)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bloodplay, Do Not Archive, Extremely Dubious Consent, Giant Spiders, M/M, Mention of Martin's crush on Jon, Mind Control, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 10:44:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15095054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nelja/pseuds/Nelja-in-English
Summary: Written for the kink meme prompt: Mr. Spider invites Martin over for dinner. Martin likes spiders very, very much, and there's something hypnotic about Mr. Spider's eyes....





	Said the Spider to the Fly

Martin doesn't know why he entered this random house, without being invited in; when he sees the huge spider monster waiting for him on the other side of a table, he feels relief in the middle of the horror. He will probably die. But at least he didn't do some kind of rude trespassing without a good reason.

He tries to turn back and run, he really tries, but he's not that surprised when it doesn't work. He has listened to a few spider statements, even the ones Jon tries to hide from him.

"Hello," he says. Because it can't hurt being polite. He thinks he still likes spiders, even now. He looks at the huge, hairy black legs, the swollen abdomen marked with geometric shapes, and feels fascinated, being so close. Then there's what feels like a human-shaped torso, but with spider-like chitinous skin, and the face has eight eyes, but not like real spiders have. They seem to move on the creature's face, drawing patterns he can't describe. All of this is weirdly beautiful. The red bowler hat is weird, though. Maybe because it reminds him the creature is otherwise naked. It doesn't seem to have sexual organs, though, neither human ones, nor the ones spiders have around their mouth. Martin really shouldn't have thought about it, nor looked. He feels embarrassed, and hopes no one noticed.

There's a chair here, and Martin sits, without being prompted, and without wanting to. A table between them, with nothing to eat or drink. Nothing for him at least. He remembers that once, he told Jon that he'd like for spiders to be after him, rather than any other kind of supernatural things. Be careful what you wish for, they say.

"What's your name? I'm Martin Blackwood. I work at the Magnus Institute, but you probably know that. I doubt it's a coincidence." He casts nervous glances at the creature, who has not eaten him yet. Or laid eggs in him, or something.

"Mr Spider," the thing says. The voice is both hissing and deep, and it’s exactly what Martin expected. Not that the name is very surprising either. Martin feels the faintest hope that he could actually be here to talk.

"I always wanted to ask, is every spider supernatural? Or only some specific ones?" Martin wants to add he likes spiders, because he really does, but at worst, it would sound like some pitiful way to plead for mercy, and at best, like flirting. When he's in presence of this kind of power, he really doesn't think that years of taking some house spiders in his hands to get them outside, preventing his mother from killing them with a vacuum cleaner, will weigh a lot in his favor.

"Do you really want to know?" Mr Spider asks.

Does he? Or is he just trying to strike up a conversation? He's surely interested, but it's not the first thing in his mind right now. "As you wish," Martin says quickly. "But we're allies, I think? Maybe not personally, but if Jon hadn't freaked out about this spider, Jane Prentiss would have had more time to prepare and attack us, and maybe we would have lost..." He hesitates. "More people. I think it was on purpose, wasn't it? Your friends sent Jon a lighter too. By the way, the table was yours too, I think, and it was a good thing. I'm sorry we destroyed it, it was... well, we didn't understand what it was for."

He shouldn't have talked about the table.

A huge spider leg leaves the floor and lands on his shoulder. It's light on his tee-shirt, and Martin tilts his head to the side a bit, to feel if the hair on it is soft or urticant. It's mainly soft; even the harder hairs brush nicely on the skin of his cheek.

"You're something, Martin," the creature says, sounding deeply amused. "Maybe I should trust people from your side to notice things from time to time."

"Thanks? I guess?"

"You don't notice everything though. You talk about being allies, but it seems you just mentioned times when we were helping you."

That's very true. 

"What do you want?" Martin asks. Not that his admission of debt changes a lot. The creature was already going to do with him as it saw fit. And to be honest, he still doesn't want to be eaten. "I could make some tea while we talk about it?" he proposes.

"I don't like tea," the spider answers. "I'll have you instead." And as Martin was already trying to get up, he feels that he can't. He has no control over his actions. He squeaks. He was expecting some kind of visible web, he realizes. It was ridiculous. He's already a puppet, he was even before opening the door. Maybe the physical web would have felt comforting. Or maybe it would have just been sticky.

"Will you kill me?" Martin asks, terrified. His heart is beating hard. Another long leg joins the first one. They are softly caressing both his cheeks, making him shudder. A normal spider would bite him first, or encase him in web, to have him slowly decompose and drink him rather than eat him. What is he thinking, it's not a normal spider!

"Maybe. Or maybe I could offer you a situation?"

"I already have a job!" Martin claims. "A job I can't leave - not that I want to." The creature is joking, isn't it? And Martin is joking back? He's not sure.

"Oh yes. Watching the Archivist from afar, looking after him, never catching his eye." 

It's not a totally accurate description of Martin's job, but it's still too personal and it makes him angry. Not that he can do anything about it. As he wants to furiously protest, he feels that his mouth won't open.

"I actually met him when he was a child," the creature says, and Martin believes him. "He was interesting. If you accept my offer, work with us, you could get more control over your relationship."

Martin can talk again, yell even. "I'm really not interested!" 

Well, if it was this or being killed, maybe he should have thought about it more? But his answer would have been the same. He's no traitor.

"Seems like I misjudged you," the creature says, still sounding amused. "You prefer being the one controlled. It's still a possibility. Look at my eyes."

Martin's neck moves by itself, and his eyelids won't close. The eight round eyes, black with green reflections, slowly turn around Mr. Spider's face. They're very beautiful eyes. Martin feels that his neck can move again, that he could look away. He doesn't.

Mr. Spider's legs play some puppet theater in the air. 

And Martin starts to remove his clothes.

The feeling is so weird. It's not that he doesn't want it, more that he doesn't want to want it? He undresses neither fast nor slow, puts his clothes on the back of the chair, without taking the time to fold them. Will he wear them again? Will someone or something wear them again? His heart is beating wildly in his chest, and he can't help registering all his feelings, the sensation of being made to do this against his will. He wonders how he would describe it to Jon if he made it back alive and made a statement about it. Except that there's a dull excitation taking hold of him, as he's getting accustomed to the loss of control, and it slowly becomes some perverse enjoyment, and he won't tell this to Jon, to anyone, even if he lives.

When he's naked except for his boxer briefs, he realizes that he's hard. 

He'd like to believe it's part of the physical control exerted on him, but he feels like it isn't. Either he's getting aroused from having every one of his movements controlled, or it's from watching Mr. Spider's dark hypnotic eyes and huge, arachnid body. He doesn't know which one would be saying worse things about him.

Once he's totally naked, he lies down on his back on the dinner table. Of course he does. He's the meal. Panic mixes with arousal to make his heart beat faster than it ever has.

Soft spider legs running on his body, probing every surface on his skin. His eyes stare into the monster's eyes, never leaving. It's impossible there are only eight legs, he feels touched by very soft threads everywhere. Pleasure mixes with soft, fleeting pain. As he comes, he’s already forgotten that it was meant to be bad, that he didn't want it.

He thinks it's his fourth orgasm when he passes out. It sort of clears his mind, and when he wakes up, he doesn't open his eyes again. 

"Enough?" says Mr. Spider's voice. 

Martin's body wants more, always more, but he feels light-headed and sick. He can move his hands over his body, and finds some wounds, dressed with spider web. He's not bleeding out, but there are a lot of them. He feels vaguely horrified that he didn't even notice. He thinks he's lost a lot of blood, and it's not on the table, just in the monster's mouth and stomach. 

"I don't want to die," he answers.

"And I guess I don't want to give answers to the Institute about what happened to you, so if you agree to this, you can leave."

"Agree to what?" Even with hope flaring in him, he's still very tired, and a bit turned on. This part gets slowly better with his eyes closed and his freedom of movement back.

"Not telling your Archivist, of course. Not showing anything so he doesn't ask you. If it’s going to be a problem, I could still kill you or keep you."

Does it think he would tell Jon something like this? Really? To see him wince in disgust? "Never! I'll never tell anyone!"

Mr. Spider hums a little song as Martin feels his body betray him again. He puts his clothes back. He manages to stay on his feet, but he knows he hasn't enough strength left; it's just the spider webs, supporting him as they imprison him. He shouldn't get used to it.

"Maybe next time," the creature says.

Martin doesn't collapse in the street. Every one of his steps stays controlled until he reaches his home, his apartment, falls on his bed. It's objectively very creepy. They know where he lives. Not very surprising, as he's used to cleaning out a few spider webs from time to time, and he even remembers being a bit sorry about it.

For now, though, he's just grateful he can go directly from the forced dance of the spiders to a very deep sleep. He just has to hope he won't dream.


End file.
